


I Dont Wanna Know

by LondonGypsy



Category: Kane (Band)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Hurt Steve, M/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-30
Updated: 2012-07-30
Packaged: 2017-11-11 02:02:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/473221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LondonGypsy/pseuds/LondonGypsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christian's fucked up - big time? <br/>Can he fix what he did or is it too late??</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Dont Wanna Know

**Author's Note:**

> As always - huge Thanks to my beloved SuperWhoLockGypsy for the amazing Beta!! You rock, Darlin!! ♥

 

“ _I'm not gonna try to stop you, but that doesn't mean I don't want to... If I know you, you've already made up your mind.... So, go on and go, if you're really leaving,... put a million miles between us._ _But you still feel me...like I'm right there at your side..._ ”

“Chris?” 

“Yeah?”

“You're messing up again. Too quiet and too slow.” 

“Oh...sorry. One more try?” 

“Nah, I suggest we finish for today, you're not really in to it tonight.” 

“Uhhh..., sorry, you're right. Maybe tomorrow will be better.”

“I hope so. We need to wrap it up. They won’t wait forever, ya know.” 

“I know.” 

Chris took off the headphones, hung them over the microphone and left the recording booth. This day sucked. Just like yesterday. And the day before. 

And all the fucking 187 days before that day. 

But he wasn’t counting. Not at all. 

“Damnit Chris, you really need to focus,” Bob said as he opened the door to the actual studio. 

Chris sighed and fell on a chair, rubbing a hand over his face. 

“I know, man, I fucking know. I'm so sorry... Its just...just...” His voice trailed off and his producer shook his head.

“Its okay, Chris, I know what you've been through, are obviously still going through, and I understand that. But you also have to understand me. This record has been so long in the making and your fans are waiting, the label is waiting and if we don’t get it done in the next few weeks...” He didn’t end the sentence, only looked at him and Chris nodded wearily. 

He knew all that. He knew it too well. But right know? He didn’t care. If it was up to him, he could have stayed at home, drinking and drowning in self-pity. Nothing really mattered anymore. His world was broken, shattered into tiny pieces; too small to find them all and too many that he could have fixed them. 

He sighed deeply, ignoring the lump in his throat and the sting behind his lids. 

Bob still eyed him before he said:

“Go home, Chris. Get some rest; sleep an entire night, for god's sake and take tomorrow off. Get yourself back in line and we’ll see each other on Thursday, okay?” 

“Okay,” Chris agreed, all of a sudden tired as hell. Sleep could even be an option tonight. He stood up, said good-bye to Bob and the rest of the recording team and shuffled out of the studio. 

It was already dark outside and flurries danced through the air. The cold November air stung in his lungs, and the single tear that rolled down his cheek was from the icy wind. At least that was what he kept telling himself as he walked to his car. 

On his drive home he picked up another bottle of _Jack_ and some burgers; he didn’t plan on cooking anything anytime soon. He hadn’t used his kitchen for more than heating some microwave-food or using the ice-maker on the fridge. He kept the door closed; as if that would help. 

Back home he didn’t bother with a glass – he opened the bottle and took a long drink. The alcohol burned in his throat, but it washed away the lump and helped his brain not to think too much. 

He slumped into the couch and switched on the TV. He zapped through the channels until he found a dumb game-show that was trivial enough to keep his mind occupied. He guessed along with the candidates, but the more he drank the harder it got, and after a while he turned it off. 

He sat in the dark, emptying the rest of the _Jack_ before he slowly made his way to the bedroom. He undressed on his way there, letting his clothes lay where they landed and fell head first on the bed. For a moment he just stayed like this: face buried in the pillow, not moving, not breathing. The faint thought crossed his mind that if he just stopped it, it would be better. No more pain, no more disappointment, no more shit to deal with. Only blackness, nothingness. 

But then he turned his head, taking a deep breath... and froze. There was it again: that scent he thought was gone, once and for all. He gritted his teeth and his hands clenched the pillow under his head. 

Why? He had washed all his bedding - twice, damnit. He had thrown away the sheets and bought new ones, the complete opposite of what he was used to. He had cleaned everything up to get rid of that fucking smell. But obviously it was still there. And once in a while it hit him like a punch in the gut. Like now. 

He swallowed hard, ignoring the pain in his chest, the wetness on his cheeks. He stumbled back to his feet. He wouldn’t sleep here. Not with that scent in the air, no fucking way. He slammed the bedroom door shut and stomped back in the living room. 

He fell hard on the couch, staring blindly in the dark. The moon shone through the window and painted a pale track on the floor, over the coffee table and on his CD rack. His eyes followed the path of light and stopped, glued to his CD's. 

He didn’t know that he had moved and he watched absent and stunned as his hand pulled out the CD, put it in the player and hit the start button. He just stood there, the case loosely in his hand, and as the first sounds reached his ears he sank to the floor; his legs didn’t hold him anymore. 

It hurt. It hurt so much. After all that time that had passed. Tears fell on his hands but he didn’t even notice.

All he realized was that voice coming out of the speakers, filling the room, gentle and low. 

The voice that had murmured endearments against his naked skin. 

The voice that was able to make him come just by purring in his ear, deep and raspy and so fucking sexy. 

The voice that had always been around him, at home, on stage.

The voice he could have drowned in, letting it wash over him, taking away all his problems and sorrows, 

The voice that had always made him feel better, feel safe, feel...home. 

The voice he could have listened to forever. 

_Could_ have. 

A little cry escaped his throat and Chris wrapped his arms around himself, shaking and shuddering. 

The music wasn’t what got to him that much, it was the words. Words that were sung by a broken heart and a hurt soul. 

“ _Now it's all so clear to me, you're not the one I thought would be, the one I'd always know. A few hundred miles away from home I found a fool hiding in another town and it might be time to go. Cause you chased me away from home and I’m never coming back again. I think its safe to say, that my time with you is done; now I'm feelin' so very restless, lyin' here crying these tears again , I think its safe to say that you are not the one..._ _”_

Steve’s voice filled the room, warm and soft and it was too much for Chris. He broke down, slumped to the floor, curled up on the hard wood. Tears ran over his face, glistening in the moonlight. He wept for everything he had lost, for every day he wasn’t with Steve, for every single second he had to live without him. 

“I miss you so fucking much.” Just a whisper in the dark, silent and sobbed. 

After a while the tears stopped falling and Chris could move again. He pulled himself together, staggered to the couch and then just sat there, listening to the music, lost in the voice he had lost forever. 

 *

He woke up stiff and his neck hurt like hell. His legs were hanging over the end of the couch; his feet had fallen asleep at some point and he had to wait a few minutes to get the feeling back in them. It was quiet and he was thankful for it. He didn’t know whether he could have endured it if the CD was still playing. He went into the kitchen to make coffee and then to the bathroom to take a long hot shower. 

As he came back, only a towel around his hips, the light on the answering machine was blinking. He threw a short glance at the clock; 6:30am. Who would call him that early? Besides Bob and the team nobody knew he had the day off and nobody would dare to call that early. Everyone knew he wasn’t reachable before noon, especially when he was recording. 

He pressed the button and almost choked. 

“Uhm, hey, its me. I figured you're still sleeping, so...” Steve’s voice sounded plain and he hemmed before he continued.

“Well, you...uhm...you still have my guitars.” A long pause and Chris thought that was it, but then he spoke again.

“I want them back...please. I can come over and get them when you're in the studio...uhh... I still have the keys.” Another pause and Chris caught himself hoping for more to come, just to listen a little longer.

“I can talk to Bob...or...well, you can text me...when you leave...'kay? Uhm, yeah, that’s... that’s all...I guess.... Bye.” 

A low click and it was over. Chris stared at the little box, the light steady now and immediately hit the “Play” button. And again and again. He listened to Steve’s message a couple of times before he forced himself to stop. 

His thoughts were racing. It was true, Steve’s guitars were still standing in Chris's music-room, tucked in their cases, safe. He wandered over to said room, just to check on them, although he knew they were there. He never touched them; they weren’t his. They used to be, yeah, but now? Not anymore. He opened the door slowly. He didn’t come here that often; like every other room in the house it held too many memories. 

Chris slowly closed his eyes, deeply inhaling the distinctive smell of paper, wood and music. He took one step forward, hesitantly before he fully entered the room. His fingers slid over the cases standing in one corner, his and Steve’s. He had bought him a new case for his acoustic a few years ago and Steve had it plastered with stickers he had collected over the years: gifts from fans and friends or bought in all the states and countries they've been to. 

Chris's fingers caressed the old leather, sliding over the letters of Steve’s name on it, deep in thought. 

 *

“ _Hey, baby, I'm back. It didn’t take as long as I...” His voice cut off as he entered the room. Chris's eyes went huge as he saw Steve standing in the door, guitar in one hand and the other one half in the air._

“ _Fuck.” Chris jumped to his feet, pulling up his pants but Steve waved him off, so much pain in his face, Chris's heart jumped._

“ _Steve, please, let me...”_

“ _What?? Explain??” His eyes were only slits as he spat out the words. “No, thank you, Kane, I don’t need an explanation for_ **this** _.” He snorted disgusted as he scrutinized the skinny blond in the couch, pulling her top back down. She looked uninterested, as if that was the most normal thing in the world. And it probably was; she looked like one of those girls sleeping with every celebrity she could bewitch._

“ _Darlin' please, let me...”_

“ _Don't you_ **fucking** _dare call me that! Fuck off, Kane....” He snorted again. “Kinda fitting, ain’t it? Have fun with her.” He turned and left, slamming the door closed._

 *

Chris shook his head, coming back to reality. One night. One fucking night and he had ruined his whole life. He had been drunk and Steve had been on tour. And that girl had been sweet and charming and he hadn’t been thinking as he took her home. 

He buried his face in his hands. He had been so fucking stupid. 

He had called Steve after that night; after he kicked the girl out. He had left messages, hell, he'd even called Jensen and Jared, just to get the cold suggestion to never call again. 

He had tried everything to talk to Steve, but he had ignored him. Chris had called him for two months, every damn day. He had whole conversations with Steve’s voice mail and his answering machine, he had explained – or at least he had tried, he had begged, fuck, he even had sung for him. But, nothing. Only silence. Not once he had picked up or answered a call. Chris had been to his place, as he found out where Steve had hid himself after that night. But it was empty and quiet. Nobody had been there.

Steve had cut off any chance to get in contact with him. He had canceled all the upcoming _KANE_ gigs, and as Jason called Chris to ask him what the hell had happened, Chris had told him that he fucked up. The band broke apart over this. 

Basically the message Steve had left was the first time he had heard from him in over 6 months. 

6\. Fucking. Months.

Chris sighed and grabbed both guitar cases to put them in the hallway. He put them in a corner where Steve could see them when he came to get them. 

He got dressed, drank his coffee and left the house. He texted a short message to the number that was still number 2 on his speed dial -number 1 was his Mama- and walked to his car parked on the other side of the street. But he couldn’t leave. He just sat there, waiting, hoping. He didn’t know for what but he knew that this might be his last chance. 

He shifted in his seat and turned on the heater; it was cold and the windows already fogged. 

Two hours later he was ready to give up and he had his hand on the key as the car came around the corner. 

Steve’s car. 

Chris's heartbeat doubled and he held his breath.

The car parked in front of his house. As Steve got out of it, Chris tediously held back a groan. 

Steve had lost weight. He had always been lean, but now he was so skinny, his jeans sat so low in his hips that Chris thought they would fall if it wasn’t for the belt holding them in place. The jacket he wore hid his upper body, but Chris was sure the shirt would be too loose as well. 

Steve disappeared in the house before Chris could see his face. He waited impatiently till he came back out, locking the door and carrying his guitars to the car. Chris gasped. 

Steve’s hair was longer than Chris had ever seen it and it fell in waves around an exhausted face. His eyes were sad and he had big dark shadows under them. The bitter line around his mouth was as new as the deep wrinkles on his forehead, and his steps were heavy. Chris choked and his hands clenched hard around the wheel. Every fiber in his body screamed to jump out of the car, ran over and hug the man who looked so fucking lost and lonely. 

And just like that he had the hand on the door, opened it and was half over the street before he even realized what he was doing. 

“Steve?” Chris called silently, hesitant out of a sudden, not knowing what to say but he also couldn’t let him go. 

Steve’s body froze; Chris could see how his neck muscles tensed. He didn’t move for a full minute, he just stood there, car door open and guitar in one hand. Finally he put the case in the car and closed the door. He turned, almost in slow motion, until he faced Chris. Chris heart stopped for a second as Steve’s blue eyes met his. Only for a second though before Steve looked away. The deep sadness in them made Chris take one step closer, wanting to take it away, no matter how; it so doesn’t belong there. 

Steve backed away but the car behind him stopped him. He held up both hands, defensive and even that little move looked weary and weak. 

“No.” 

Just one word, but it cut right through Chris's heart and he winced. 

“Can I talk to you? Please?” 

Steve shook his head and opened the driver’s door.

“No...I...just... fucking no.”

Chris reached out and held him back by laying a hand on his shoulder. 

“Please...Let me explain....God, please....” 

Steve flinched at his touch and moved away. Chris hand fell down and he made some strangled noise that had Steve at least turn back to him. 

“Just leave me alone, okay? I don’t wanna see you again. I don’t wanna hear you again. I ...I cant...just go. Go...” 

Steve sounded so jaded and Chris didn’t think anymore. He closed the gap between them and wrapped his arms around the other man. He felt Steve stiffen but he held on, only a loose embrace. 

And just like that Steve sank against him, his hands crawled around Chris's waist and he sighed. Chris felt his cold cheek against his, his warm breath ghosted over his neck and made him shiver. 

He tightened the hug and for a second Steve responded but then he jerked back. He pushed hard against Chris, caught him off guard and he stumbled back. 

“Fuck, no, no, no. Just leave me the fuck alone.” He almost yelled at him and wanted to slide into the car but Chris didn’t let him.

“No...wait...listen to me, okay? Just five minutes and I explain everything....”

Steve shook his head wildly.

“Fuck, don’t you get it?? I don’t wanna talk to you, I don’t wanna listen. I don’t wanna hear your voice...cause that ….No. You fucking cheated on me. With a damn girl. And you want me to listen? NO!” 

He was shaking now, his hands clenched into fists and Chris saw his jaw bones working. 

“Steve, please, I was drunk ...and... alone... you wasn’t there... and...god, I'm so fucking sorry... I know, I can’t make that up, but please, please, let me try... I...gosh, I miss you so fucking much and I can't....” 

Steve closed his eyes, staggering a little. 

“And you think that’s an excuse? You were drunk and...what? Thought it's okay to fuck around a little, that I wouldn’t find out?” 

He opened his eyes, finding Chris's and he saw the tears in them. 

“It's too late, Kane. It is too fucking late. I don’t trust you anymore, probably never will again. You...” 

Chris grabbed his neck and closed his mouth with a brutal kiss. He pushed his tongue past Steve’s lips and growled loudly as Steve’s tongue met his, hot and hard and so sweet. Chris buried his hands in Steve wild blond hair, pulling him closer, didn’t let him back away. Steve groaned as loud as he at the contact, and the sound had Chris rock-hard in an instant. He rocked against him and felt Steve just as hard pressing against him. Their lips were sealed together, tongues fighting with each other and trying to dominate the other man, the kiss pure desperation. Steve’s fingers were digging deep in Chris's sides, he bit down his lip, fierce and possessive. Chris's entire body was trembling, the shock of feeling Steve so close, so intimate again was something his mind couldn’t process. 

But before he could get his brain back to working, Steve pushed him away so hard he could barely stay on his feet. 

His eyes were only small blue slits, burning with a fire Chris almost felt on his skin. 

“Don't you dare come close to me ever again, Kane,” he hissed.

Steve slid behind the wheel, slammed the car-door close and drove away, the tires spinning and leaving Chris with the smell of burned rubber. 

He sat on the cold concrete, staring after the car in shock, his fingertips touched his lips, still tasting Steve, feeling and smelling him.

“Steve....” he whispered, his breath a white cloud in the cold air. 

*

He parked the car and just sat behind the wheel, staring at the little porch in front of the house. 

His house. Steve rubbed a hand over his face, tucking the hair behind his ear and left the car. He took his guitars, searched his keys and opened the door. 

The hallway was dark and he set the cases down on the floor. He went straight into the kitchen and poured himself a drink. He needed that now. He could still taste Chris on his lips, on his tongue and he had to get rid of that or he would go crazy. He emptied the glass and poured himself another one before he walked into the living room. 

He sat in the couch, slowly sipping on his drink as his eyes fell on the clock next to the TV. 10.30 in the fucking morning and he sat here, getting drunk. He laughed bitterly. That's what happened to him? Was that what Christian fucking Kane had made of him? A damn alcoholic? He rolled the glass in his hands, watching the golden liquid spin in it. 

Chris had broken his heart. Easy and simple. As he came home that night and had found him on the couch with that girl, he couldn’t believe it. He had been hurt in so many ways he couldn’t even count them. He'd been hiding for two months, from everybody. He hadn’t answered one single phone call, not from his friends, not even from his family until his Mom had knocked on the door. She'd been calling all his friends to find him. And since nobody knew where he was she came all the way over and had searched every single place she knew about. 

Here was where she eventually found him. She hadn’t said anything, just pulled him in her arms and he had cried. He'd let it all out, all the pain, the anger and the frustration. He had wept for hours, sobbing and a total wreck but she'd only hold him, caressing his back and murmured soothing words without any sense. 

She had stayed a week before she drove back home, but not without the instruction to call her at least once a week. He had agreed and he never forgot to call. 

After those two months he somehow went back to business. Actually, he'd plunged into work. He wrote and composed like a man possessed, trying to get rid of his feelings; for a while it worked. 

His producer was more than happy with all the new songs. They recorded them in a minimum of time and after 4 months they finished a complete album. He went on a promotional tour; he sang the songs but his heart wasn’t in it. He just functioned, smiled when he had to, sang when someone said to. But his mind wasn’t there. He didn’t feel anything; it was as if his whole being was numb. 

After a while his boundaries started cracking and the real world seeped in. He heard rumors about Chris recording his own album. Jared had seen him once but refused to talk to him about it. Nobody talked about Chris when he was around and Steve was thankful for that. 

But he heard a lot, read a lot about him. The album was long overdue and it got hyped like nobody's business. He tried to avoid it but every now and than he caught a song on the radio or saw an article on an online site. Then he drowned his feelings in _Jack_ , woke up with a huge hangover and all the pain was back. 

But it had gotten better. He was able to go out again, meet with his friends; he even had fun sometimes. 

But he never forgot. His dreams at night were filled with steel-blue eyes, silky brown hair and strong muscular arms. He always woke up panting and hard. And when he jerked off after those dreams all he thought of was Chris. He couldn’t help himself: he heard his voice in his ear, felt his hands on his body, his dick and he came violent and sobbing. Then he curled around himself, hiding under the blankets. 

He emptied the glass, stood up and went outside to get the mail. As he came back inside he considered another drink but then he shook his head. Coffee would have to do it. He shuffled into the kitchen and while he waited he looked through the mail. Mostly bills, ads here and there, some fan letters. His management forwarded everything to him. One letter caught his attention. He faintly recognized the handwriting but as he opened it and the CD fell out, he almost dropped it to the floor. A small piece of paper sailed out and as he bent down he saw the signature.

Steve groaned and read the whole thing. 

_Steve,_ it said simply _, this is the raw version of his new CD. Listen to it. Eric._

Steve frowned. Why the hell would Eric wanna punish him like that? He fucking knew what he was going through. He had talked to him once. He hadn’t told him everything, just enough that he knew why _KANE_ no longer existed. 

Steve took the CD with shaky hands and laid it in the player on the counter. It took him ten freaking minutes to hit the “Play” button. He was kinda prepared for Chris's voice but he never had expected what he finally heard. 

“ _Well, I know they say all good things, must come to some kind of ending. We were so damn good, I guess we never stood a chance. Go on and find what you've been missing and when that highway's tired of listening, you'll see I'm not that easy to forget. When a new moon shines through your window or you hear a sad song on the radio and you don't why but you just start to cry. Or you're driving around on a sunny day, and out of nowhere comes a pouring rain and a memory hits you right out of the blue, that's just me thinking of you...”_

Steve stared at the player, frozen in place, listening to Chris's voice, filling his kitchen and echoing in his ears. He sounded so fucking sad, so lost and so damn painful, Steve's heart clenched and he had to force back the tears. 

He listened to the whole song twice and then sank on a chair at the kitchen table, while the CD kept playing. But Steve didn’t listen anymore. 

It had been so fucking hard to see him today and it had cost him all his strength to not break down in front of him. That was one of the reasons he had been hiding for so long: he wanted to forget him. 

Steve snorted; as if it's possible to forget how to breathe. Chris had been his everything, his life, his world, his...

He stopped his thoughts there, not ending his reasoning. Chris's appearance at the house had been too hard, to see him in person, to actually see how fucking lost he was, how lonely and desperate. How sorry he was...

Steve swallowed hard, wiping the tears away. 

Fuck, no way, he'd forgive him. Chris was the one who had cheated on him, not the other way around. Steve had all reasons to be mad at him, pissed and … 

He covered his face with his hands, crying silently. All his emotions, suppressed for so many months broke free. 

He realized that he couldn’t forget him, his life was too entangled with Chris's. They had been together for too long that he could not have cut him out. God, he had tried it, tried so damn hard but he had failed. 

And seeing him, feeling and fucking tasting him again had shown him that he could try everything he wanted but he would never succeed. 

“Fuck... Fuck you Christian Kane,” he mumbled in the silence of his kitchen, “fuck you for being what you are.” 

He pushed the chair back, not caring that it fell to the floor and walked down in his studio. His mind was driving him crazy with all those thoughts and he needed to calm down. Writing and composing was his best way to do so. 

*

Months passed. Steve tried to live his life as well as possible. But the time strung together in a blurry passing of hours, days and weeks. 

One day he got ready for a gig. His manager had told him if he wouldn’t do that show then he would quit. Steve hadn’t performed in months and he said it was about time. Steve wasn’t so sure about it but he had agreed. Maybe it would help him to get out of his daily haze. 

He arrived at the venue, got out of the car and almost ran into Jensen as he walked through the door. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Steve asked puzzled. 

“Support, baby,” Jensen laughed, hugging him, “Jared's here too, let me find him.” 

He disappeared into the dimness of the club and Steve slowly walked backstage, greeted by the club-owner. He was obviously happy to have him here and didn’t stop babbling. Steve only nodded, smiled and didn’t have a clue what he was talking about until a well-known voice behind him asked:

“When am I supposed...?”

Steve spun around so fast he almost fell. 

Chris's eyes went huge and he gasped. Steve looked at him, frozen and in shock. They stared at each other, not able to move and barely breathing. 

“I found him.” Jensen’s voice pierced through his racing thoughts and Steve focused on his friend, very aware of Chris still staring at him. 

Jensen and Jared stood in the door frame, both grinning at him, but as Jensen’s gaze fell on Chris who slowly turned to face them, his eyes narrowed and his smile was gone. 

“Hey.” Chris said silently, unusually shy. 

Jensen’s warm gold-green eyes got so cold that even Steve shivered. 

“What do you want here?” Jensen asked harshly, moving to stand between Chris and Steve, forcing Chris a few steps back. 

“Gig,” Chris said, shoulders falling down and pushing his hands in his jeans pockets.

“What??” Jensen shot an angry glare at him and Chris shrugged uncomfortably. 

“Eric arranged it for me,” he said, pointing somewhere in the back of the room. 

Jared frowned, Jensen cursed and Steve almost fainted. 

“But...” he croaked and Jared was by his side in an instant, steadying him with a big hand on his back. 

Chris looked so abashed and lost, Steve almost wanted to reach out to...what? Make him feel better? Hug him? He didn’t know and before he found his voice back, Eric rushed around the corner. 

“Alright, Chris, you...” he stopped and threw a glance at Steve. 

“Oh, hey, nice to see you. How are you?”

Steve stared at him, opening his mouth but nothing came out. Eric frowned at him, but then shook his head and turned his attention to Chris. 

“Okay, you're up first. If they like you, you'll get an encore after the last band again. But that’ll be decided later. Get ready, we're starting in 10 minutes.” 

Steve saw Chris nodding but Jensen and Jared pulled him away, pushing him in a quiet corner and making him sit on a chair. They shielded him from the people that slowly but surely filled the room. Jared looked down and Steve smiled wearily at him.

“What the hell, Steve? Why is he here?” 

Steve shook his head, staring at his hands. 

“I don’t know. My manager said it would be like a festival with several bands and artists, but I didn’t know... I wouldn’t... I mean... I never...”

Jensen patted his shoulder and said:

“It's all good, man, okay? We got your back.” 

Steve nodded, trying to control his shaky hands. 

They waited while watching all those musicians come in and leave again, listened to the music coming from the club until it stopped. 

Steve straightened in his chair and leaned forward as the voice of the club manager announced this evening, the bands and artists. As he heard Chris's name Steve flinched a little but he stood up and slowly walked over to peek onto the stage. Jensen tried to hold him back and he heard Jared mumble something that sounded like “Don't” but he ignored both. 

The stage wasn’t that big, but still big enough to hold a full band set. Chris stood in front of the microphone, introducing himself and then turned a bit to adjust his guitar. His gaze fell on Steve; his movement stopped and Steve's breath hitched. Chris's blue eyes burned in his, pleading and sad. Steve wasn’t able to move, to think or even blink. 

Chris took one step closer to the mic, tearing his eyes away from Steve, faced the audience and said:

“This song ain’t what I wanted to play for you but I think you're gonna like it anyway.” 

He shortly tuned his guitar, a tiny but sad smile on his lips before he started playing. 

Steve immediately recognized the song and he gasped in shock. He hadn’t looked away and as Chris turned his head again, their eyes locked instantly. Chris opened his mouth and the words poured out, gentle and low; he sang them only for Steve, the people listening forgotten. All what counted was Steve. 

“ _I've got this old TV that you left behind. And I've got a better me, it took so long to find. And I've got a lot of nerve to ask you back at all. And I put this picture of you and me on the hole in the wall. Ain't touched a bottle in so long 'cause now the only thing I ain't got, was kinda hoping you'd prove me wrong and give me one more shot, give me one more shot..._ ”

Tears filled Steve's eyes, running down his cheeks but he didn’t care. His gaze softened as he listened to Chris singing his own song, the song he had written years ago and which was so fucking fitting right now. It was Chris's way of apologizing to him, in front of the whole club. Steve swallowed around the lump in his throat. 

Chris sang with so much emotion, the audience kept relatively quiet; they realized that this was something special. They couldn’t see Steve, but they of course saw that Chris was facing someone off stage. 

Chris didn’t look away and neither did Steve. He drowned in the blue he knew so well, carefully allowing himself do to so. Because whatever Chris had done to him, with and in his music he had always been honest and open. And singing that very song, singing it just for Steve showed him how sorry he was. Not that Steve really needed that right now. 

He eventually realized that he couldn’t live without him. He had tried everything, every fucking possibility to forget him but he had failed in so many ways and he was just tired of trying. Right now he gave up, opened his heart and his soul again to the man standing on that stage right in front of him. 

And as if Chris felt it he shyly smiled, only a curl in the corner of his mouth but Steve saw it and his heart fluttered. He didn’t smile back though. He couldn’t. Not yet. First he had to go through his own performance. 

As Chris finished the song Steve stepped back, out of Chris's sight and then there was Jared right behind him, eying him curiously. Steve smiled at him and Jared’s eyes got wide. 

“What the...?” 

Steve cut him off with a wave of his hand and went to get his guitar. He stayed in the back of the room as Chris came off stage, eyes searching for him but Steve ducked in the dark, hiding behind a few people. He saw Jared looking at him but he shook his head. Jared shrugged, called for Jensen and both left, not after reassuring him mutely that they were there for him. He smiled appreciatively at them and nodded. He knew that. He just wasn’t ready to face Chris yet. He waited. 

He heard the club-owner announcing another band. And another one. And finally one of the staff members appeared at his side. 

“Mr. Carlson?” she asked friendly. 

“Yes,” he said, grabbing his guitar. 

“You're next.” 

“Thanks.” 

He heard his name and he walked on stage, smiling into the blinding lights, not seeing much. 

He wrapped the guitar strap around his neck and introduced himself. Slowly his sight adjusted to the lights and he could at least see the first few rows. The place was packed. 

His fingers strummed slowly over the strings of his guitar, evoking a slow melody. He closed his eyes, concentrated on the words. As he opened them again his gaze fell on Chris, standing down in the crowd, at the side of the stage, watching him intensively. His eyes shimmered almost black in the light and Steve felt a hot shiver run down his spine. For a second he forgot the words but then he started singing, never taking his eyes off of Chris, letting him know with every fiber of his being that this was just for him.

“ _Why cant I get you off my mind, I'm like a circus tiger in a circle of fire. Now that you're gone, I'm thinking maybe I was wrong for ever stepping in. Cause on a cold dark day, you're the one I want, when there's warm sunny days, you're the one I want, and in every imaginary way you're the one I want...._ ” 

Chris's smile grew as he listened, hope lit his face and Steve couldn’t suppress the little smirk that appeared on his lips. 

He finished his song and the place exploded with applause, but Steve was still caught by Chris's look. His eyes were talking to him, telling him everything Steve needed to know and he drowned in the depth of the blue gaze. A hand on his shoulder tore him away and he grinned sheepishly at the club-owner, who carefully reminded him to leave the stage. 

As he got backstage he put down his guitar, taking a deep breathe. His hands were shaking and he had goosebumps everywhere. As Chris came around the corner, only eyes for him, his heart was racing and he swallowed hard. 

Chris crossed the room with a few long steps, pressed Steve against the wall behind him and kissed him so hard and longingly Steve’s knees almost gave in. He wrapped his arms around Chris's neck and pulled him closer, moaning silently at the familiar feeling of Chris's lips against his. He opened his mouth, and as Chris's tongue touched his, hard and demanding, it was like coming home. 

He melted against him, forgetting everything around him, only feeling Chris, smelling and tasting him again. The amazing little noise he made as his lips closed around his tongue, sucking slightly, playing with it, swirling around the sensitive tip, biting carefully at his lower lip, just to go back to licking deep in his mouth, trying to become one with him. 

Steve groaned and Chris answered with a low growl, rumbling in his chest; Steve felt the vibrations under his hands. Chris's hands slid down his back, under the hem of his shirt and Steve choked out a strangled noise as skin touched naked skin. Chris only pressed him closer against the wall and Steve felt his dick hard and hot against his leg. All his wants and needs, all his desperation and his stifled feelings flowed into that kiss. Both were so lost in each other, so captivated by that kiss, they didn’t hear the loud cough behind them. 

“Ahem, guys??” Finally the voice cut through their haze and Chris pulled back, clouded eyes looking deep into Steve’s, not willing to look away. But he tilted his head and Jared, who stood behind him, said:

“Uhh...Chris, you're supposed to go back on stage and do an encore.” he said, trying to bite back a grin. 

“Hmm,” Chris muttered, not moving, keeping his eyes locked with Steve, still caressing his skin under the shirt, slowly tracing fingertips over the flesh and made Steve arch into him. 

“As in _now_ , Chris...” Jared added patiently and Steve heard the smile in his voice. 

“I hear ya,” Chris murmured, raised one hand and sliding his thumb over Steve’s lip. Steve whimpered silently, digging his fingers deep in his shoulders. 

“Steve...” That was Jensen, somewhere at his left, but he didn’t bother looking. Chris's eyes narrowed a little as he slid his finger under the waistband in his back, just a little, but Steve shuddered and gritted his teeth. Chris growled again, so low and deep the sound shot through Steve’s nerves and set a desire free he didn’t know he was able to feel. He pulled Chris closer, claiming his mouth for a short, but deep kiss and then gently pushed him away. 

“Go,” he whispered, voice hoarse and low, still not taking his eyes of him. 

Chris shortly hesitated, the way he watched him had Steve biting his lip and clenching his fists to control the urge to yank him to the ground and fuck him right there. 

Jared handed Chris a guitar. Chris took it blindly, holding it with one hand.

“Wait for me?” he asked Steve, suddenly unsure and self-consciously. 

Steve smiled at him and nodded. Chris let out a relieved huff and finally took his gaze off him. Steve felt the loss almost physically but once again Jensen was there, leaning casually against him as his knees wanted to gave in. 

Chris whirled around and stepped out on the stage. Steve followed slowly, standing in the shadows, eyes glued to Chris. 

“Well, I heard you want an encore,” Chris said into the mic and adjusting his guitar, grinning as the audience cheered loudly. 

“Alright, here you go. This is for the most important person in my life, who I almost lost. This is for you, Darlin'.” 

Steve’s heart beat so fast he thought it would jump out of his chest, as the first notes reached his ear. 

“ _Livin' with me, it ain't easy, but I do it every day and sometimes even now, I wanna run away._ _But there you are, you're tryin' to please me, Darlin' you stand your ground. It's more than I deserve. I've taken more than I've been givin', I've taken for granted this life I'm livin', I don't know why heaven above blessed me with your sweet love, though I never tell you what you're worth, it's more than I deserve. It's just your style to wear a smile, oh baby, you wear it well, if I had my way I'd dress you in nothin' else, so come on here and lay down, a little while, 'cause you right now, you're more than I deserve.._.” 

Steve listened to him, listened how Chris put all his emotions in that song and his heart melted. He couldn’t look away, but he realized that Jared and Jensen were behind him, he felt their presence. He heard them talking silently and he smiled. 

“Guys, you don’t have to stay. I'm good here. You can leave if you want,” he said, slightly turning to them. 

“You sure, man? Ouch...” Jensen winced and Jared snickered.

“Didn’t you see them, man? I'm sure, they will be...um...occupied for a while, they don’t need us.” 

Steve grinned as he heard the slight slap, probably at Jared’s head, and as they mumbled their good-byes, Steve waved a hand at them. He heard them chuckle as they left.

His complete focus was on Chris, who had finished the song and came towards him.

Steve’s breath hitched and he made one step back, so nobody could see him anymore. Chris's smile was blinding as he reached him. He grabbed Steve’s shirt, pulled him close and kissed him passionately. His tongue was warm and soft and the kiss was full of promises. Steve broke the kiss, panting and he groaned as Chris pressed gently against him. 

“Wanna leave?,” Chris asked a little breathless and with hopeful eyes. 

Steve only nodded. His hand searched and found Chris's and he tangled their fingers together. 

Both took their guitars and left. While walking to Steve’s car, they stole kisses from each other and Chris tightened his grip on Steve’s hand. They stowed the instruments on the backseat. 

Chris didn’t let go as Steve loosened his hand to get into the car. He pushed him against the car, kissing him again, deep and thoroughly. As he pulled back, a softness laid in his eyes Steve had never seen there. 

“Your place or mine?” Chris's voice was raw with emotions and Steve heard the fear and the insecurity behind the question. He cupped his face with both hands, brought his lips close to Chris's ears and murmured:

“Ours.” 

As he kissed him softly he felt a smile spreading over Chris's lips and as he opened his eyes he saw the deep hope and the endless love in his eyes. 

“Ours,” he whispered, rolling the word over his tongue, trying the sound of that. 

Steve tucked a strand of Chris's hair behind his ear, looking him deep in his electric blue eyes. 

“Let's go home.” 

The smile on Chris's face was so bright and so full of joy, Steve knew he had made the right decision. 

 

  



End file.
